


the shape(s) of water

by thereinafter



Category: Original Work
Genre: (literally?), Bathing/Washing, Crush at First Sight, F/F, Feelings, Shapeshifting, Telepathy, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29423424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereinafter/pseuds/thereinafter
Summary: One day she’ll run away, that one, the elder naiads told each other. (And she did.)
Relationships: Female Knight Who Loves Baths/Female Water or Hotspring Spirit Who Loves Knights
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	the shape(s) of water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mytha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/gifts).



  
The spring at the edge of the wilds was a place out of time, a green jewel in a dry and broken land. The naiad and her sisters dwelt there, stewards of the waters and their creatures, tending the shrine in its cave beside the pool. As the years turned, they slept and sang and retold the same stories to each other. The eldest shared centuries of memory in their circumscribed home. It was their life, honoring the goddess who birthed them from the spring.

It should have been enough for her; but she was youngest and foolish, her sisters said, and there were the knights. 

They came by ones or twos or companies, driven by prophecy or curiosity or vows into the wastelands. They stopped to offer at the shrine, or to bathe, or simply to drink and rest at the last known water on their maps. They were beautiful and strange—and they let things slip, or left them behind. A sketch of a country that might no longer exist, with the spring marked at the very edge; a coin bearing a stern man’s profile; a ribbon once the red of cardinal feathers, now faded; a book a golden-eyed woman had given her, though she could not read it and her touch made the ink run. 

Her sisters were content to briefly enjoy these humans, remembering them as story-fragments. They humored her about her treasures in their niche in the cave. She didn’t care. The knights fascinated her, with all their varied newness, and their shared, fragile, mortal dedication to adventure. 

_One day she’ll run away, that one_ , the elder naiads told each other. _However she can._ And they lapsed into reminiscence of others, gone before the spring had formed her, and the ways they’d found to leave the waters.

When the knights camped beside the pool, she lingered by the banks to hear their conversation. When they left, she would perch on the high rock for as long as she could hold her shape, watching them ride into the haze of darkness on the plain beyond, until she dissolved exhausted into the falls. Each winter she slept longer and longer, and dreamed of the world they came from.

* * *

One warm summer day when dragonflies were darting above the water, a small company with banners approached from the south, led by a woman in an iron crown, hard-bitten and graying. Another, tall with braided dark hair, rode at her side, and a column of men followed.

They spoke a language she’d heard from others, but their prayers were new to her. They offered wine and honey, human delicacies her sisters were happy to accept.

The leader remained within the shrine cave, and two men had a muttered conversation before retreating out of sight to make camp. The younger woman, though, laid her sky-blue shield on the bank and knelt to speak with the other naiads. Her voice was low and pleasant as they invited her to bathe, drawing her into the water, laughing, sweaty and glowing and unstrapping things.

From her vantage point below the falls, the youngest naiad flowed back and forth, entranced, teasing herself with her own curiosity. She considered joining them, but in the end held back; part of her didn’t wish to share.

Instead, she found the knight when the others had dispersed, finishing her bath under the willows. She was waist-deep, undoing her crown of braids, the motion revealing subtle curves of muscle, shoulders and breasts brown without sun. 

When the naiad broke the surface, the knight greeted her with an open smile. “Hello. Or should I say again, hail, lady of the waters? I haven’t met you, have I?”

The naiad shook her head. She held out a handful of soapleaf, rich with sap. _For your hair?_ she said, hopeful, within the knight’s mind, as her kind spoke to all creatures.

“Thank the gods.” The knight extracted a pin, and the second braid unraveled down her back. She waded closer, up to her chest. “Basil and Stephanos will call me spoiled by bathing.” Then she laughed. “I say they stink.”

_I believe you,_ the naiad mindspoke wryly.

“To be fair, the Dustfather forbids the indulgence, and they’re jealous. But I’m not sworn to him.”

_May I help?_ She reached to stroke through the knight’s half-loosed hair, combing it out behind her in the water. 

“Oh—thank you, again.” The knight submerged and tilted her head back as the naiad crushed the plants and worked them in, calling tiny eddies to unravel the snarls.

_Did my sisters treat you well?_

“Er, well, yes.” The knight chuckled with her eyes closed, wet lashes starry. “I mean, I’m not used to such a welcome. A little overwhelming?”

_Perhaps they can be,_ the naiad agreed. She swirled the foam away, separated the hair strands, and nudged the knight’s head up again, plaiting them gently down her neck.

“Not in a bad way. After crossing the rivenlands, this place alone is a wonder. I’m honored.” When she opened them, her eyes were dark as leaf shadows on the bottom. “Far be it from me to turn down the gods’ gifts.” 

Questions filled the naiad as they did every time, about this woman, her company, the world outside, but meeting her gaze washed them momentarily away. 

“From the legends, I thought water spirits would have fish tails, or skins like seals.” The knight’s eyes crinkled in amusement that radiated from her mind.

The naiad giggled aloud. _I suppose we could. I do not strictly have any shape._

She let go the knight’s braid and lay back, floating. She pictured the scales and fins of the minnows that swam in the pool. Slowly they coalesced, lithe and silvery, a tail forming below her waist. She tested it, darting across the pool, and the knight laughed in surprised delight.

_But I prefer this one._ She let it dissolve, back to her flowing human form. _Like yours._

The knight swam to catch up with her. “Wonders upon wonders.”

_What is your name?_ she asked when they rested in the shallows, curiosity swelling again.

“Irena. Sister and second to Antonia, of the Sunsword Order. That’s all of us.”

“Irena.” The naiad made the effort to speak it with her lips, a little clumsy and bubbling. She liked the sound. 

The knight’s smile lit her face, sympathetically awkward. “Is there something I can call you?”

_We don’t name ourselves as you do,_ she mindspoke. The last human to give her a name had been long ago. Her desire overflowed into thought. _You could name me, for now._

Irena laughed. “I’m no priest, but ...” She glanced around her, then reached to stroke a lily on its pad. “What are these called?”

_Water lilies?_

“Pretty. Lily, then, shall I say?”

_I like it_. The naiad cupped the flower from the other side, their hands brushing beneath it.

Irena grinned and ducked to rinse the last of the soapleaf from her face.

“Irena!” a woman’s voice thundered from the direction of the shrine, pitched to carry. “To me!”

Surfacing, Irena sighed. “My commander calls. No more bath.” She gave the naiad a regretful look. “Coming!” she called back. With elegant economy of motion, she pulled herself up the bank, then circled to retrieve her clothes. 

_Do you travel on?_ the naiad asked, swimming after, appreciative.

“Antonia informs me we’ll camp for a night or two.” Irena leaned to grab her shirt where it floated. “But then we ride south through the wilderness, to one of the ruined cities, following the direction of my mother’s priests.” Her tone was skeptical, but she didn’t elaborate.

Forming feet, the naiad moved to fetch a piece of armor from the sand nearby. _Here is … this._

Irena chuckled and added it to her armful. “Spaulder. Thanks. I didn’t know you could leave the water.”

_I can hold this shape a little while._ She picked up another and set it on top. _The crest of the ridge behind the cave, there, is the farthest I’ve walked before ..._ She demonstrated, letting go and falling back into water on the sand.

Irena whistled. “Ah, all becomes clear.” She bent to collect the last few articles. “Our camp is just past there, where it flattens out.” She pulled the long shirt out of the pile and tugged it over her head, grimacing as it clung. “I’d rather spend the night here, but needs must.”

_We could still talk,_ the naiad suggested, back in the pool, _this way. Only form a thought as if to speak, without voicing it._

“Hmm,” said Irena, perking up. _…Like this?_

_Yes, that’s it!_

_I catch on quickly,_ Irena thought. She tugged on her boots and with a wave and a smile, she climbed the ridge out of sight.

They amused themselves by mindspeaking until evening, then all the next day, exchanging tales of their separate lives and wondering at how they compared. Irena described the camp and her companions with a dry wit that sent the naiad into giggles, picturing them. And she didn’t seem to tire of her surely duller stories and jests. She was easier to speak with than any of the knights she could remember. 

When the naiad told her sisters, they pronounced her doubly smitten. _Always said you’d run away with one of them!_ they laughed. 

* * *

After sundown on the second night, the naiad circled the dark pool, possessed by complex fluttery feelings. It had been less than two days, in her life of endless days. This had never happened before. She couldn’t be considering this.

She lingered at the side closest to the camp, hoping for another glimpse of Irena, and when she felt a disturbance in her dreams, reached out to calm them.

Some time later she sensed her wake and cross the ridge, and searched the banks until she found her in a moonlit patch of grass. “Lily?” Irena said. “It is you. I couldn’t sleep.”

_I don’t need to_ , she said. 

“Sit with me?”

The naiad pulled herself up to lie half on the bank. After the lightness of the previous days, their talk became more serious, vulnerability enabled by the darkness. Irena confessed her misgivings about her party’s journey and described how precarious their situation really was. 

“My mother believes it’s her last hope as queen, finding this relic and bringing it back triumphant to regain the gods’ favor.” She waved a hand. “Through the mountains and the fens … the poisons, the beasts … even discounting the legends, there’s a chance none of us will make it to the ruins. I don’t think it’s worth it, frankly. But my mother and her priests decreed it, and my sister won’t hear a word against them, and I’m not in command.” She sighed and picked at the grass. “What a cursed mess.”

In turn, the naiad shared her own trouble. _I’ve dreamed of adventure, seeing the world, for as long as I can remember. For us, that’s a long time. Leaving here is my dearest wish._ She paused. _But I wish you didn’t have to._

“Before I woke, I dreamed of you.” Irena swallowed, then met her gaze. “These past days have been—a solace. If there’s anything I can do to help—”

She leaned her forehead against the naiad’s, and set her palm to hers. The naiad could feel her breath. She let her hand flow against Irena’s, wetting it and reforming, teasing between her fingers. She ached with readiness to know how kissing her would feel, how it would be different.

_I wish I could show you a better adventure,_ Irena mindspoke in a rush. She pulled back and rose. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Lily. I have to sleep if this is going to happen.”

The naiad watched her walk back over the ridge to the unseen camp.

She’d loved them all, or thought she had, every brave questing stranger, but this was a new feeling. She didn’t want to watch Irena leave again. Didn’t want her to go at all, to the uncertain fate she feared. Maybe she feared for her. Maybe she could do something about it.

_Brave, that,_ said her elder sisters, flowing up beside her. _If it’s your time, take it._ She hugged them in thanks, and submerged herself in contemplation while the moon set and the stars brightened and faded.

* * *

When dawn came, the youngest naiad was still there among the willows; but now she waited for Irena to come back, for the moment to make a passionately thought-out proposal.

Irena came to the water leading her horse, saddlebags packed to ride. She was unarmored, though, and carrying a blue flower. She held it out with the smile that shone right through her. “Joy-of-the-morning. I saw them growing near the camp, and I thought, before I go—” She pointed to the ridge beyond. “I don’t like how we left it.”

The naiad formed hands to accept it. A thing she’d never seen. Just over the hill. It vibrated through her, the desire to go, be, in the world. And Irena was smiling, and she wished to go with her, and she could hardly bear it all together. The flower was delicate, intense blue; it slipped from her fingers. 

“Is something wrong?” Irena reached out from the bank, then, with more concern, jumped in to take her hand. Chest-deep beside her, she brought it to her lips. “Lily? Say something?” 

Her wavering fingers wet Irena’s mouth. The naiad—Lily, as she did wish to be—flowed closer and kissed it, pouring herself against her body and between her lips. The contact warmed and steadied her, stronger than the sunlight through her surface. 

_Before you go, I want to_ — She pressed her own naked form against Irena, seeking more of her. The pool swirled at her call through Irena’s clothing, licking at the notes of her skin.

When she released her, Irena breathed in a hoarse lungful of air, half a moan. “Gods take it, please do.” Her hands found Lily’s face, then got bolder, sliding underwater, a delicious specific sensation. 

She made legs to wrap around Irena’s waist and let herself be lifted. The pool clung to her, beading in droplets on her breasts that Irena caught with her tongue, slippery over the sensitive flesh. She sucked a wet nipple, then the other, into her mouth, and Lily gave a bubbling gasp, holding her shape tight, tighter, to feel this. _I’d never swear this off either,_ Irena thought to her, making her laugh and shake.

Pleasure refracted from Irena’s mouth throughout her body, no longer steady, focusing as heat between her legs. She kissed Irena’s lips again, twining around her, seeking purchase and friction. The water between them warmed with her arousal. 

_Wait,_ Irena thought. _Allow me?_ Lily felt her lift again, past the surface. Sudden weight, then sun-warmed grass beneath her. She was perched on the bank. Irena’s shirt dragged wet across her skin as she returned to kissing her, enthusiastic and thorough, leaning between Lily’s knees. She chased the water droplets again, moving down the body Lily barely held together. Lily fell back into the grass, gasping though she didn’t need to breathe.

Then she was where Lily needed her, dark head between her thighs, making sounds of appreciation for the cunt that Lily herself was appreciating now. _You taste like your spring,_ Irena thought with wonder. _Water-lily. Warmer now, soft, except_ —and then her thoughts were lost in her own enjoyment as she built up a rhythm of licks through Lily’s wetness.

Lily dug her heels in the earth of the bank, feeling herself pulse liquid and hot, panting and giggling with this focused pleasure of embodiment.

She gripped Irena’s hair, felt her fingers flow loose, pulled herself tighter—and then she was almost there, and then she was. Under Irena’s mouth and hands she let go in ecstatic dissolution, splashing back into water, cascading into the pool. 

Irena spluttered and coughed. “Lily? What in—?” She leaned on her elbows, breathing hard, and began to chuckle. “I hope that was what it seemed.” 

For a few moments all she could do was ripple around Irena, in lieu of words. Finally, she managed to reform, pulling herself up from the surface, and nod.

“Thank you,” Irena said, wiping water from her face. “That was … marvelous. And flattering. If I must have a sendoff—”

“Take me with you,” Lily interrupted with her mouth, the words rough on the tongue. It wasn't how she'd planned, but it felt right.

“I wanted a last bath, anyway.” Irena was peeling off her wet clothes. “Wait, what did you say?”

_I can help you,_ Lily mindspoke. _Think about it. I know it’s sudden, but I wanted to say it before. Give me this adventure and I’ll protect you, heal you. Call rain for you. Out in the dry lands, you’ll never run dry._

She felt a note of amusement from Irena, like a mental blush, before she turned serious. “That would be a gift of the gods indeed, even a fraction of it. Last night, I meant what I offered.” Irena kissed her. “But how? Aren’t you bound to this place?”

_I only need someone to carry me. A vessel to rest, a ship to move through the air. I want to help. I trust you._ As the words formed, she felt surer of them. This was her time. Her sisters would know. Her thoughts rushed into a new plan.

Irena was visibly touched. “Lady of the waters, that’s an honor I hope I can deserve.” 

_Your waterskin._ Lily gestured toward the horse, placidly drinking nearby. _Carry me when you ride, release me at night. If we part, leave me near water. If you lose me, I’ll reach it eventually. Maybe even the sea._

“Antonia—you know what, no. I’m making this call. I won’t betray your trust. It’s in the vows.” Irena climbed up to unstrap the skin from her saddle. She pulled on a dry shirt and pants, then knelt beside Lily again. Her mind was all sincerity. “You know where we’re headed, but I’ll do my best not to lose you. If you’re absolutely sure.”

And so, the naiad with a new name made her decision, squeezed herself small enough to flow into the waterskin, and let the knight carry her again in careful hands. _Goodbye,_ she sent to her sisters, and their steady affection flooded back: _Return one day, if the goddess wills._

“Let me adjust this,” Irena murmured, then slung her over her chest. “Too hot for mail today.” 

Through the leather Lily felt her heart beat. On her other side, the air and the sounds of the world. She quivered with excitement. _I’ll cool you down._

Irena laughed. “Maybe.” There was a jolt and a jingle as she mounted. Then the heavy walking rhythm of the horse, weaving up the path for long minutes. 

“Top of the ridge. Last chance,” Irena said under her breath. “On the other side is—shall I describe it to you?”

Lily felt a bird call in the distance, the creak of wheels, the shouting back and forth of men. _Oh, yes,_ she said. _Let’s go._


End file.
